Roseworms Arising
by Ilsia
Summary: Sometimes all it takes to change fate is a well timed realization. Fun, Marshmallow, Snape, Evil Mid Bosses, flobberworms and explosions. Warning for Genius!Weird!Harry and General Madness TM. Fixed version.
1. Chapter 1 Switch of the Flip

**Roseworms Arising!**

Chapter 1. Switch of the Flip

**Harry could pinpoint the exact moment he realized the way his relatives treated him wasn't normal.** He had been four at the time, just tall enough to reach the stove when standing on a stool, and therefore tall enough to add cooking to his already extensive list of chores. He had also been old enough to, surprisingly, read. Never let it be said he was stupid – though it was said quite often, regardless – for he wasn't. He had learned how to read from scraps of news papers left around by Uncle Vernon, and the occasional trashed book thrown away by Dudley. The latter, he would often sneak out to pick up from the trash can while doing his gardening chores. He reasoned that since it was thrown away, it was free property. The books certainly didn't mind being patched up a little with small, deft fingers and some tape, band aids and string – whatever Harry could get his hands on, at the time.

The realization came in the form of the TV. Now, Harry wasn't allowed to watch the TV, himself, but he would occasionally watch from the tiny crack at one of the walls in his cupboard. Dudley could often be found occupying his favourite spot on the sofa, and coincidentally blocking his view of the appliance, but sometimes, especially late at night when Dudley was asleep and Uncle Vernon was watching something or snoring away at the TV, he could sneakily watch and see glimpses of the world outside. Mistreated children, neglect, abuse and such were often the topic on the News, but it was only after he saw the movie Matilda on the TV one day when Dudley forgot to shut it down, that Harry realized something was wrong with the way he was treated. It was also the spark that lead to Harry discovering the joys of the library.

The Dursleys were all too pleased to not have to see him all day, and as long as Harry completed his chores he was free to come and go as he pleased. He would only have to make sure to be back by 9 pm, or face a cold night outside at the doorsteps. He knew – from experience – that his so called family wouldn't come to open the door, no matter how he rang the doorbell or knocked. At library, the staff quickly became accustomed to him, and after seeing him enough times even made him a special library card that Harry got the signature for by noting it was a school paper that required one. His uncle signed without even glancing at it. Harry's favourite librarian was Mrs. Kettle, who by no accounts resembled one except when she was screeching angrily at some teenagers for ruining books. Mrs. Kettle called Harry Matilda, being familiar with the story and finding the child visiting the library so often quite alike. Harry wondered, sometimes, if he should tell her he was a boy and not a girl, but figured it didn't hurt. And he liked being called Matilda. It _was_ her who showed him the wonderful world of books.

Harry would be the first to acknowledge the similarities between himself and Matilda. He had, after all, witnessed first hand all the strange things that seemed to happen near him. Similarly, he found himself unchallenged and his progress smothered by his relatives. While they weren't his parents – who, according to the Dursleys, were ungrateful drunkards who got what they deserved – they were still his caretakers, and couldn't have cared less for him. Harry found ways to challenge himself in the library, with all the books, and with his thirst for something, anything, that could change how things were, quickly finished with the children's section and moved on to teens. It was also at this time that he proceeded to read some non-fictional books about science, mathematics, psychology, and whatever sparked his interest. It was these books that gave him the idea to try to train his "Freakishness", which was what his relatives called anything even remotely odd (or that upset Dudley) that occurred in his vicinity.

Harry started his training, shortly after he turned all of six years old, with meditation exercises suggested by books for concentration and focus – he figured that if he could find a way to focus better, his Freakishness would be easier to control as a result. However, even though he greatly enjoyed the exercises and found them helpful for keeping his calm when being insulted by Uncle Vernon or when trying to plan an escape route when running from Dudley, they did nothing for his Special Freak Skills. The only difference he noted was a decrease in them, so he figured he was going at it the wrong way.

The next thing Harry tried was staring. It was quite similar to focusing, except instead of focusing – or trying to – on nothing, he focused on a single, solitary object and tried to see if something would happen to it. While this proved interesting of its own accord, the only reward he got from his experiment was an aching head, after Aunt Petunia hit him with a frying pan for "being unnerved by his freakish glare".

After his latest failure, Harry figured he was still taking a wrong approach. He spent a day at the library not reading, and instead simply thinking and trying to remember what had been going on during all the previous appearances of his Freakishness. He finally came to the conclusion it had something to do with emotions. All the times before, he had been either feeling very angry, scared or sad – all considered negative emotions according to one of his psychology books. Harry wondered if it was impossible to do Freakishness with good feelings, or if it was simply because he had never been happy or excited enough. It's not like you encounter a lot of happiness living in a dusty cupboard with spiders for company.

Armed with this knowledge, Harry set out to do some new experiments. This time he knew to avoid doing any of them anywhere near Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon – Dudley, however was a different story. Luckily Harry had enough self preservation instincts to know it'd be a bad idea to try anything on Dudley before he was sure of it working. He had a lot of experience with Dudley's fists and friends. Hard learned lessons are the ones that stick the longest.

Harry's first experiment was a total failure – not because it didn't succeed, per say, but because it succeeded too well. There's a limit to everything, and blowing up the house while trying to do something small is breaking it, like using a nuclear bomb to kill a fly would be. Harry had decided to start out with anger, the strongest of negative emotions he could come up with, and something he didn't have to work too hard to gather. There was plenty in his life to be angry about. The problem was how to get his anger to do something – in the past situations, there had been a specific result indicated by the object of his feeling. It wouldn't do to be angry at his situation and find out the Dursley home was on fire, after all. Especially with him still in it. So Harry had concluded that first gathering his anger from the Dursleys and his situation would be alright if he managed to concentrate the feelings of anger on something else right after – something like the annoying mid boss in Dudley's new Wii game, Flight From Death – The Mighty Bumblebee.

Flight From Death – The Mighty Bumblebee was all the rage recently, at least if Dudley was to believe, and usually his cousin was up to date when it came to things like games or television. Dudley had been complaining about the impossible mid boss for weeks now, saying that no one at school knew how to defeat him either. Several people had tried, only to find their Bumblebee munched to death in the mouth of the evil Dark Mid Boss Voldemort. Harry decided the Dark Mid Boss Voldemort would make the perfect target for his first experiment in anger fuelled Freakishness.

Harry's chance to put his experiment to test came on a sunny Sunday, when the Dursleys reluctantly left him locked in his cupboard (they didn't know Harry could easily open it from the inside, even locked, by lifting the rickety door just a little bit) to celebrate Dudder's birthday at a local amusement park. Immediately after hearing the car pull out from the yard, Harry proceeded to lift the door that tiny bit it took to open it and ran to the living room, plopping down in front of the Wii console. With a few experimental pokes the tv and console were up and running, and the game loaded up from the last save point, right before the mid boss' lair, a gigantic swamp. Watching the bumblebee fly unerringly to the swamp, Harry wondered if bees could read, and if so, why it would ignore the neon signs claiming Danger!!! and Trespassers Killed Without Remorse!!! with big, winking letters and skull marks. Why would a bee enter a swamp to begin with?

The start of the battle music, a cheerful little foxtrot, shook Harry from his thoughts and he focused to stare at the screen for a few moments, watching Dark Mid Boss Voldemort waltz – literally – from one of the big morasses, twirling a carrot. After staring for quite the while (it was a rather fascinating sight) Harry paused the game and proceeded to gather all his anger left over by his treatment at the Dursleys, all the while staring at the Dark Mid Boss Voldemort. The despicable, ridiculous Voldemort, his worst enemy, who he hated with all of his might, all of his heart, all of his spirit, abhorrent, horrendous Voldemort, dressed in his pink tutu, twirling his pink carrot- wait, what? For there he was, the Darkest Mid Boss of all times, wearing a pink tutu with a matching pink carrot, still doing his waltz, before a gigantic shoe descended from the skies, equipped with – as Harry just barely had time to read – a level 3 Pike of Doom, and kicked Voldemort back into the morass. As Harry stared at the still paused game, the morass let out a small poof of pink gas, causing him to pick up his gaping jaw, but did nothing to stop his staring.

Harry had barely enough time to register dropping the Wii remote before the scene on the screen started to shake, even while the poor bumblebee hurriedly buzzed ahead through the Voldemort-equipped morass, picking up all the dropped money while doing so. As if answering to the shaking going on in the game, the house around him started to shake, as well. Harry figured, rather quickly in his opinion, that a shaking house was probably not a good sign and getting out might be a clever thing to do. As he ran from the room and through the front door, Harry thought that if the game console still worked when Dudley got back, his cousin would be quite surprised to find himself about million honeycombs richer and the defeater of the Evil Mid Boss Voldemort and his pink, err, orange carrot.

Then again, a Wii console was rather certain to suffer some damage after being buried in the rubble that used to be a house just a few minutes before. Probably. Harry figured he had been doing quite a bit of staring lately, but didn't let that thought deter him from staring some more, this time at the smouldering remains of what used to be the Dursley residence.

Well, he thought, at least his experiment had been a failure of a success.

**AN**: So, this was going to be a completely serious, perhaps even angsty fic. Then I made the mistake of chatting with my friend about it, and it took a decided turn for the weirder. Make that the weirdest. I have an idea where I'm going with this, but expect some twists and turns along the way. And no, I haven't forgotten Matilda. Seriously.

Since this is brainstorming story, feel free to give suggestions. Also, I'm not yet sure if there will be any pairings for this, but I'm up to suggestions there as well – just rest assured it will NOT be a HarryGinny, since I loathe Ginny – sorry to the Gin lovers – nor will it be HarryDraco, because that's just overdone. And Snape will remain his bitter, snarky self in this one.

Next chapter

Harry gets kicked out and picked up by someone unexpected, and something curious is going on at the Voldefront.


	2. Chapter 2 Place of Change

**Roseworms Arising!**

**----  
**

Chapter 2. Place of Change

----

"**A nice house you've got there"**, a cheerful voice sounded behind Harry, shaking him from his thoughts. He had a snarky reply that would've made Snape proud ready on his lips, but all that came out was an unintelligent "Uhhh... Yeah.." since the previous witty comment was lost somewhere between taking in the speaker's appearance and answering.

Harry wasn't a rude boy by nature, and would have to be forgiven for his staring. He had little doubt anyone living in this world or maybe even other worlds could take in the man before him without a blink. For one, the man was short. Harry's height short. And he was short for his age, 9 and proud of it, to begin with. For another, the man was wearing a dress. And not just any dress, at that, but a frilly, ribboned, lacy, pink dress with neon green sparkles Harry could've sworn were moving and twinkling at him.

Another fact he noted was the goggles the man was wearing, as well as the upturned frying pan on his head, tied to its place with what appeared to be a jellyfish tentacle. Harry wondered absently if it burned. The man seemed to notice how Harry's gaze kept drifting to the baby blue goggles with bottle bottom lenses and smiled proudly, raising them from his eyes.

"They're dead useful for seeing Flinkers", he explained knowingly, as if expecting Harry to understand what he was talking about. Not one to like appearing dumb, Harry just nodded as if he did. There was a long silence of the man beaming at Harry as if expecting him to say something. When the man showed no sign of stopping the beaming or dropping the expectant air, Harry nervously cleared his throat and tried to come up with something to say.

"Uh..." was all he got out before he stopped, but this time it wasn't his own fault – for the Dursleys had apparently chosen that moment to come back. Feeling the sinking feeling of dread dropping in his stomach like the weight of a thousand bricks, the same type cluttering the Dursley lawn at the moment, Harry wondered why they had come back so fast. The trip should've taken several hours, still. His wondering was answered, when Uncle Vernon clambered out of the car, not noticing the state of his house, muttering something about forgetting his wallet – Harry noted idly that there would be no wallet for him to pick up, anymore – turned around and- froze.

Harry feared his Uncle had broken, for a moment, so utterly still he was, almost not breathing. This worry quickly disappeared as Uncle Vernon's face began to change colours in a rapid succession, first to a ghostly pale, then from an ugly pink to green matching the neon spots on the strange man's dress. Harry risked a glance to his way, pondering when Uncle Vernon would notice the oddity standing next to him, and what he would do if he did. His relatives hated anything odd, after all, possibly even more than they hated coming home to find said home a pile of rubble.

"BOY!!! YOU!!! YOU-!!!" his Uncle apparently had trouble getting words out, based on the amount of sputtering he was doing. His spit spattered the ground and Harry flinched away from the range and then reconsidered this move, when his Uncle made to grab him – only to be stopped by the hand of the strange, extremely short man with his pink dress and neon green sparkles, smiling as before, appearing not at all phased by the turn of events.

"Are you the owner of that fine house there? Lovely work you've done with it! And look at all the Flinkers it's attracting! Simply delightful! Would you mind telling me what gave you the idea of blowing up your house like that? I must find out a way to replicate the events! This is just wonderful!" the man spoke fast and happily, shaking Uncle Vernon's suddenly limp hand like a windmill.

"Who are you?" was all Uncle Vernon finally managed to stutter out, staring at the man as if he was a particularly disgusting, overgrown fly worm.

"Oh! Pardon my manners, we're supposed to introduce ourselves first, yes, I remember now! I must have caught the interest of some Liptygroops, they like cooking appliances after all. I will have to remember that the next time I go looking for Flinkers, indeed.. Oh, right, I was introducing myself! My name is Xenophilius Lovegood, lovely to meet you!"

Uncle Vernon was doing a good impression of Harry's staring himself, not that he knew of it and even if he did, would admit it. Seemingly shaking himself out of his stupor and deeming the man not worth talking to or acknowledging, Vernon yanked his hand back to himself – Mr. Lovegood had a surprisingly strong grip – and turned back to Harry, a furious glint in his eyes.

"Explain, boy!" was all he said. Harry swallowed nervously.

"Um, well, you see – it, uh. The cupboard door- I mean, the wii- the- Uh... The house... blew up. It just, uh, exploded. Boom. All of the sudden. I didn't do anything. Honestly."

Harry could tell his Uncle didn't believe him for a second, and for once he was right not to. Usually Harry had no idea how some of the strange things that occurred around him happened, but this time he was quite sure it had something to do with his experiment. He figured he couldn't really blame his Uncle Vernon for what he did next – blowing up someone's house usually ended up with the cause behind the bars, after all. Therefore he wasn't overly surprised when his Uncle simply pointed with one hand towards the street, and harshly breathed out the words: "Go. Don't come back."

Harry glanced towards the car where Aunt Petunia was sitting in stupor, mouth open and gaping, the – really ugly – picture of shock. Dudley was too fat to turn around in the car, and had apparently been playing with Piers Polkiss, one of their neighbours' kids, and hadn't yet even noticed that anything was wrong. His back was turned towards Harry and for some reason the young wizard was glad he wouldn't have to see his cousin's pug face last before leaving. Be thankful for small wonders and all that.

Shrugging his shoulders slightly, Harry started to wander off down the street, wondering where he could go and completely forgetting about the strangely silent Mr. Lovegood, until he noticed the man genially walking right next to him and stopped, a good few blocks from the ex-Dursley residence. Blinking at the man, Harry tilted his head questioningly. Mr. Lovegood tilted his head the other way and blinker very purposefully back. Harry frowned. Mr. Lovegood smiled. Scowling, the teenage wizard was ready to ignore the man when he spoke.

"As delightful as this game is, it appears that you are without a roof on your head, young man."

"Harry", Harry reminded him, feeling somewhat suspicious of what the man was going to say or do about his dilemma.

"Right, Hairy – as you can see, I'm quite bald, so feel free to call me Baldy! Right, right, so since you're without a roof, how would you like to have a floor on your head, instead? Our house is quite lovely, I'm sure you'll like it there, and Luna will be so happy to get a new pet! You can even get the second bed under the porch if you want!"

Harry blinked. Then blinked some more. After getting bored of blinking at Mr. Lovegood and Mr. Lovegood blinking back at him – it took somewhere around 10 minutes before Harry blinked at the wrong turn and Mr. Lovegood exclaimed "Got you!" – Harry tried to think of the offer seriously. While Mr. Lovegood appeared fairly off his rocket and not the least sensible, it's not like he had much choices unless he wanted to become snack for some street thug or get taken in by the police.

Shrugging, Harry offered his hand to the beaming man before him, and had barely the time to say "Sure, Mr. Baldy", when he felt the squeezing sensation of being pulled through a straw and the orderly houses and clean streets disappeared from his sight, to be replaced by a very strange house that looked slightly like a mushroom painted by Picasso. While puking his guts out, Harry sympathized strongly with all liquid beverages of the world. After finally reaching some resemblance of normal skin tone instead of the zombie gray he had been sporting, Harry turned towards Mr. Lovegood who was curiously poking at his former stomach contents with a stick.

"What was that?" Harry asked, after stealing the stick and throwing it away to the disappointment of a pouting Mr. Lovegood.

"That, my dear boy, was apparating! At least that's what the general wizarding population calls it! But we know better, don't we, Hairy? It is most certainly a dimensional hop caused by the disturbance of Hinkletweets with the light particles! Now, shall we go and introduce you to Luna? I'm sure she's already waiting impatiently!"

Harry blinked, did a double take, and tried to get his brain to stop repeating the words "wizarding population", before coming to the conclusion that the things he had done so far were, indeed, the forbidden M-word instead of "Freakishness" – though he was quite fond of that word, it being his name for the longest time and all – and apparently there were enough people of the same nature as him out there to be called a population. Unless Mr. Lovegood had imagined them all up, that is. Finally finding the will to answer the beam on Mr. Lovegood face with one of his own, Harry grabbed the hand offered to him, and followed the dizzyingly sparkling man towards the Picasso-esque Mushroom.

Meanwhile, in an unremarkable swamp somewhere in the forests of Albania, a single morass burped forebodingly, plupping out a pink carrot that proceeded to float around.

----

----

AN: Thousands of thanks to the one review by the lovely Luna Potter - I don't know why this story has had so little hits, but oh well. This chapter is all for you. Sorry that it wasn't Trelawney, but I had already decided on Good-Ole-Xeno. Thestrals is a nice idea, I think I'll use that if you don't mind - I hadn't thought of it myself.

Pairings are still undecided, so do offer suggestions.

----

Next Chapter: Luna, learning to be a good pet and Snape makes an appearance! And what's up with the carrot farms in Albania!?


End file.
